stay with me.”
She caught the desperation in his voice and it called to her. “More than anything in the world, I want to stay with you. I love you, Alexei.”
“I don’t know that this will work,” he said.
“What are you going to do?”
“Transform you.”
She tensed. “Does it hurt?”
“No, it feels… strange but it doesn’t hurt. And the best part is…” His finger ran down her cheek eliciting a rush of warmth through her body. “If it works, we will be together forever.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“You’ll die.”
“I’m already dying.” She shivered and his grip tightened. Eternity or death. She was afraid, very afraid. She was afraid to transform, but she was more afraid of dying and never being in his arms again. “If I die, will you come for me in my next life?” she quavered.
“Death will never part us. We are destined.” He dropped a kiss to her hair.
“Alexei,” she whispered, “kiss me one last time.”
“Of course, my love.”
His lips brushed hers then settled, a mark of possession as his taste exploded in her nervous system, far more potent than the morphine and much more desirable. Their tongues tangled as she clung to him, their hearts beating as one. Head spinning with the power of his touch, he nibbled the line of her jaw and she tipped her head back, offering him free reign over her body and soul.
Her fingers twined with his as he caressed a blazing trail to the base of her throat, the movement as intimate as any embrace they’d ever shared.
Her breath left in a rush as his teeth pierced her skin, his offering of eternity or death, and she raced to embrace her destiny as the world faded away.
Epilogue
New Orleans, 2030
Alexei inhaled the fragrant smoke from his clove cigarette, its scent blending with the crush of human bodies, spilled liquor and utter decadence that was Mardi Gras.
How he loved this gracious old city with it’s myriad of wrought iron balconies, hidden gardens and colorful personalities. But now he had more essential things to do than admire the architecture. He had an important meeting to keep.
He crushed the remains of the cigarette under his heel before moving into the crowd. Music swirled through the dark sky as costumed revelers made their way down the street. A Crewe parade was in full force as he moved through the throng, resisting the lure of the music that beckoned his gypsy soul. He left the wildness of Bourbon Street and walked down Orleans to Jackson Square. Few people were in the square and he scanned the area for the person he sought above all others.
Then he saw her and his heart almost stopped.
Standing near the fountain, she was a vision in full gypsy getup. Her long sable hair hung in wild ringlets to the small of her back and a daisy crown adorned her head. Her pale shoulders were bare, the sleeves of her peasant top pulled low to expose her skin to the kiss of the moonlight. A vividly colored scarf encircled her waist and hung to lick the hem of her ruby-colored skirt. He smiled when he saw her feet were bare.
She was looking away, her profile a perfect cameo as he approached. She turned, her gaze curious and unalarmed.
He gave her a sketchy bow. “Madame, at last we meet.”
Her brow arched. “Do I know you, kind sir?”
“No, but I know you.”
Her eyes widened and she gave a half-step backward, one hand fluttering to rest at the base of her throat.
“Don’t be afraid.” He held his hand out. “I would never hurt you for I’ve been looking for you for years.”
She tilted her head to the side. “How many years?”
“Almost thirty.”
She rolled her eyes. “Not nearly long enough I think.” Then she turned away.
He grabbed her about the waist, startling a laugh out of her. “Not long enough?” he growled, dipping his head to kiss the base of her neck.
“The last guy told me three hundred years.” She sighed as he licked the sensitive patch just below her ear.
“Are you trying to
She caught the desperation in his voice and it called to her. “More than anything in the world, I want to stay with you. I love you, Alexei.”
“I don’t know that this will work,” he said.
“What are you going to do?”
“Transform you.”
She tensed. “Does it hurt?”
“No, it feels… strange but it doesn’t hurt. And the best part is…” His finger ran down her cheek eliciting a rush of warmth through her body. “If it works, we will be together forever.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“You’ll die.”
“I’m already dying.” She shivered and his grip tightened. Eternity or death. She was afraid, very afraid. She was afraid to transform, but she was more afraid of dying and never being in his arms again. “If I die, will you come for me in my next life?” she quavered.
“Death will never part us. We are destined.” He dropped a kiss to her hair.
“Alexei,” she whispered, “kiss me one last time.”
“Of course, my love.”
His lips brushed hers then settled, a mark of possession as his taste exploded in her nervous system, far more potent than the morphine and much more desirable. Their tongues tangled as she clung to him, their hearts beating as one. Head spinning with the power of his touch, he nibbled the line of her jaw and she tipped her head back, offering him free reign over her body and soul.
Her fingers twined with his as he caressed a blazing trail to the base of her throat, the movement as intimate as any embrace they’d ever shared.
Her breath left in a rush as his teeth pierced her skin, his offering of eternity or death, and she raced to embrace her destiny as the world faded away.
Epilogue
New Orleans, 2030
Alexei inhaled the fragrant smoke from his clove cigarette, its scent blending with the crush of human bodies, spilled liquor and utter decadence that was Mardi Gras.
How he loved this gracious old city with it’s myriad of wrought iron balconies, hidden gardens and colorful personalities. But now he had more essential things to do than admire the architecture. He had an important meeting to keep.
He crushed the remains of the cigarette under his heel before moving into the crowd. Music swirled through the dark sky as costumed revelers made their way down the street. A Crewe parade was in full force as he moved through the throng, resisting the lure of the music that beckoned his gypsy soul. He left the wildness of Bourbon Street and walked down Orleans to Jackson Square. Few people were in the square and he scanned the area for the person he sought above all others.
Then he saw her and his heart almost stopped.
Standing near the fountain, she was a vision in full gypsy getup. Her long sable hair hung in wild ringlets to the small of her back and a daisy crown adorned her head. Her pale shoulders were bare, the sleeves of her peasant top pulled low to expose her skin to the kiss of the moonlight. A vividly colored scarf encircled her waist and hung to lick the hem of her ruby-colored skirt. He smiled when he saw her feet were bare.
She was looking away, her profile a perfect cameo as he approached. She turned, her gaze curious and unalarmed.
He gave her a sketchy bow. “Madame, at last we meet.”
Her brow arched. “Do I know you, kind sir?”
“No, but I know you.”
Her eyes widened and she gave a half-step backward, one hand fluttering to rest at the base of her throat.
“Don’t be afraid.” He held his hand out. “I would never hurt you for I’ve been looking for you for years.”
She tilted her head to the side. “How many years?”
“Almost thirty.”
She rolled her eyes. “Not nearly long enough I think.” Then she turned away.
He grabbed her about the waist, startling a laugh out of her. “Not long enough?” he growled, dipping his head to kiss the base of her neck.
“The last guy told me three hundred years.” She sighed as he licked the sensitive patch just below her ear.
“Are you trying to
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